Nietzsche's Poetry

from The Peacock and the Buffalo ( trans. by James Luchte)

                                              * *

Autumn

This is Autumn: it will break your heart!

Fly away, fly away! –

The sun crawls upon the mountain

And climbs and climbs

And rests with each steps.

How the world became so withered !

Upon tired straining threads

The wind sings its song.

Hope flees –

He laments her

This is Autumn: it will break your heart!

Fly away, fly away! 

Oh, fruit of the tree,

You shake and fall ?

What secret

Did the night teach you,

That icy horror covering? 

Your crimson cheek –

You are silent and do not answer ?

Who still speaks ? –


This is Autumn: it will break your heart!

Fly away, fly away! –
"I am not beautiful
– So speaks the star flower –,
But I love man
And comfort humans –

They shall now see the flowers,
And will bow down to me
I see it! And break me –
The memory will
Sparkle in their eyes,
Memory, more beautiful than me
I can see it and so I will die.' –


This is Autumn: it will break your heart!

Fly away, fly away! 

---



An Goethe


Das Unvergängliche
Ist nur dein Gleichnis !
Gott, der Verfängliche,
Ist Dichter-Erschleichnis...

Welt-Rad, das rollende,
Streift Ziel auf Ziel
Not – nennt's der Grollende,
Der Narr nennt's – Spiel...

Welt-Spiel. das herrische
Mischt Sein und Schein: –
Das Ewig-Närrische
Mischt uns – hinein!...


For Goethe


Tenuousness –
Is your equality!
God the artist
Is a poet's pretension...

The wheel of the world rolls
And strike target after target:
Suffering, the grumbler calls it...
The fool calls it – a game...

The mighty world game
Mixes being and illusion: –
Eternal foolishness
Mixes us – into it!...


---

Fr: Jugendgedichte [ Poems of Youth (1858-1868) ]

I stand naked on a cliff


I stand naked on a cliff
And the fabric of night clothes me
I gaze down from this naked height
Upon blooming meadows,
I see an eagle float
And with youthful zest
Strive into golden streams
Rising in the eternal glow.

----

O süßer Waldesfrieden

Erheb mein banges Herz

Das keine Ruh hienieden

Zur Höhe himmelwärts 

Ich werfe mich ins grüne Gras

Und von der Tränen Quelle

Wird’s Auge trüb, die Wange naß

Die Seele rein und helle.

Die Zweige senken sich herab

Umhülln mit ihren Schatten

Den Kranken, Lebensmatten

Gleich einem stillen Grab

Oh, sweet forest peace

Lift up my anxious heart that

Finds no rest

In heaven’s heightt.

I throw myself into green grass

And from gushing tears,

My eyes become gloomy, my cheeks wet,

My soul pure and bright.

Branches bend down,

Enshroud the sick and

Weary with their shadows

Like a still grave

Ôi, êm ả rừng xanh yêu mến

Hãy dìu hồn tôi băn khoăn

               bất an

về chốn phiêu diêu thượng giới thiên đường

Tôi thả mình lên cỏ xanh mơn mởn

Từ cõi đọa đày đầm đìa nước mắt

Mắt hoen mờ, má đầy lệ 

                  ( mộng lạ thanh xuân đớn đau )

Hồn tôi khiết hóa trong thanh, ngời sáng

 (Ôi) cây lá (độ lượng hải hà) rủ che bao bọc

 những đời bệnh hoạn, mệt mỏi

               ( trần gian hệ lụy tang thương)

bằng thân, bóng  mình xanh mát chở che

như mộ địa tà dương

                         an tịnh

-----

The wanderer

A wanderer walks through the night

With a steady step;

He carries with him crooked valleys and

Long scornful mockery.

The night is beautiful –

He marches on and on and does not stop,

Not knowing where his way will take him.

A bird is singing through the night

‘Oh, bird what have you done!

Do you hinder my senses and feet

And shower me with sweet refrains

To my ear, that I must

Stand and listen –

You tempt me with tone and greeting?’ –

The good bird comes silent and speaks

‘No wanderer, no! I do not tempt you

With my song –

I tempt a little woman with scorn –

Why does it concern you?

Only to me is the night not beautiful –

How does it concern you? If you must go,

And never, never stand still!

Why are you still standing?

What did my flute playing do to you,

You, the wanderer?’

The good bird is quiet and ponders:

‘What did my flute melody do to him?

Why does he stand still?

The poor, poor wanderer!’

---

Now and formerly

So heavy is my heart, so sad is time,

And never enough:

It pulls me far into the

Vortex of melancholy, sadness and pleasure.

I can hardly see the sky anymore,

The blue may:

Wild delusions of lust and horror

Storm over me

I have broken an old time

Legacy,

That calls me to remember

My happy childhood.

I have broken a

Child’s oath :

I played with my heart

And was nearly robbed of it.

And where to find it ? Gone, is gone !

Only tears!

The grains poured out carelessly

Not like dull strings,

The golden grains – were not illusions ?

They shone a short while,

Death wrote a mighty No!

Upon every, every line.

I am like an old coin.

Green

Mossy and wrinkled on the form,

That once sparkled like a jewel.

Doubt furrows, deep and hard,

Life’s dirt,

Creeps over , grey and frozen, Seeking to embrace it.

And he who gave his heart to me –

Where are you, dear one ?

And those who quenched my thirst –

Where are they now ?

And every sun glance

That struck me – ?

Who took the last of my happiness,

My dreams and my hopes ?

I put my pounding heart

To rest

And sadness, wisdom, and burden,

Overwhelmed pleasure and profit –

It torments, oppresses and narrows itself,

In wild hours,

It hurls flames and scorches

Triumphant, was it bound.

And I write upon

Thick black pages

Little remains of the

Blood red letters,

A god wrote

Upon the white ground:

The God was I – reason

Has lied to you and me.

Oh, if I could fly away from

The tired world.

And fly as the swallows to the south

To my grave:

Warm summer breezes

And golden threads.

Rose scents around the churchyard

And childhood pleasures and voices.

Then I kneel in a marsh wood,

Completely still:

Diaphanous clouds

Float over high and proud.

Church shadows blanket me,

Lilies sway and in

Quiet breath ask me

My secret thoughts.

Oh, peace stranger of my time,

I greet

You from my silent loneliness,

Where I serve penance for my life.

From my life fours forth a

Fountain of holy waters:

I look you, and quietly,

My longing heart bleeds.

----

Erinnerung


Es zuckt die Lippe und das Auge lacht,
Un doch steigt’s vorwurfsvoll empor,
Das Bild aus tiefer, tiefer Herzennacht –
Der milde Stern an-meines Himmels Tor.
Er leuchter siegreich – und die Lippe schließt
Sich dichter  –  und die Träne fließt.

Herüber, hinüber,
Fliegen der Blicke glaänzander Funken,

Trüber und trüber,

Wölbt sich mein Himmel, wermuttruken,

Lieber, ach lieber

Bräche des Herzens zitternder Grund – 

Herüber, hinüber,

Zucken die Blitze – doch schweiger der Mund.

Wolkensammler, o Herzenskündiger,

Mache uns mündiger !

Ich habe dir und mir vergeben und vergessen;

Weh! Du hast dich und mich vergessen und vergeben.

Remembrance/Recollection

It twitches its lips and the eyes laugh,
And still it rises reproachfully
The image from the deep, deep night of the heart  –
The gentle star at my heaven’s door.
He lights up triumphantly – and the

Lips close tightly and tears flow.

Over here and over there

Flying the shining flames of lightning,

Gloomy and gloomier

Clouding my sky –

Dear, oh dear,

It breaks the trembling ground of my heart –

Over here and over there

Lightning strikes – but the mouth keeps silent

Clouds are gathering, oh, broken heart

Make us more mature!

I have forgiven and forgotten you and me;

Woe! If you have forgotten and forgiven yourself and me.

(trans. by James Luchte/ CH)

          Hồi tưởng

Môi giật, mắt cười

Đêm đen thâm u huyền hồ

gieo mù sương hàm hồ

                          đáng trách–

Chàng sao khả ái dừng chân bên cửa thiên đường tôi cư ngụ

Ánh sáng quang vinh ngập tràn một cõi –  

môi khóa ( rừng hương) , mắt tràn lệ nhỏ

Đó đây

Lửa trời bay lượn rực chiếu tầng không,

Trời xuân mộng âm u, sầu úa –

Trời ơi, đất ạ,

Tim tôi quặn thắt,

               hoài mong vỡ mộng lưng đồi –

Đó đây sấm sét vang vang–

     nhưng miệng môi im bặt

Mây tụ ngang trời, tim vỡ ( hồn núi rừng ngàn năm miên mật)

Ta khẩn cầu thâm thiêng, xin chín chắn

Ta đã thứ tha, quên lãng người, ta

Cao xanh ơi, người có quên đi, 
                      tha thứ chính mình và tôi.

(Chân Huyền dịch sang tiếng Việt )

----

From : Dionysos Dithyrambs (1888)

The desert grows, woe to whom the desert shelters. . .

Ha!
Celebration!

A worthy start!

African celebration!

Worthy of a lion

Or a moralistic roar. . .

– But not for you,

My most lovely friends,

At whose feet,

I am permitted to sit,

A European under palm trees. Sela.

Wonderful! Truthful!

There I sit now,

Close to the desert and already,

So far away from the desert,

I am not only confused:

But swallowed up

by this little oasis –

– She yawned and

opened her sweet mouth

The sweetest smelling of a little mouths:

I fell into it –

here and there, under you,

My most lovely friends! Sela.

Hail! Hail! To every whale,

When he happily leaves

his guest! – Do you understand

my allusions? . . .

Hail, his belly,

when it was

Lovely oasis-belly, no doubt:

I drifted however in doubt.

That I come from Europe is even

More doubtful than all married wives.

God make it better!

Amen.

I sit here now

In this little oasis,

Like a date,

brown, sweet and golden,

Lusting after a girl’s full lips,

More still however after a girl’s

Ice-cold snow-white

Biting teeth: towards this

yearns the heart of all hot dates. Sela.

I lie here,

similar, all too similar

To an exotic southern fruit,

Surrounded

by small flying beetles,

dancing and playing

with me like

foolish and wicked

wishes and ideas –

surrounded by you,

silent and suspicious

Girl-cats

Dudu and Suleika.

– Besphinxst, I put a lot of feeling in one word

(Forgive me God,

for this sinful speech! . . .)

I sit here, sniffing

better air, paradise skies,

Light and easy, golden striped,

good skies which

only ever fall down

from the moon,

Was it from chance or exuberance?

As the old poets say.

I doubt it.

That I come

from Europe

is even more doubtful than all married wives.

God make it better!

Amen.

Breathing this beautiful air,

With nostrils swollen like mugs

Without future, without memory

Here I sit,

My lovely dear friends,

And gaze at palm trees that bend, press

And sway their hips like dancers –

– One joins in, one looks long . . .

Is she like a dancer who for too long

Already, dangerously long, stands

Always, always only upon one leg?

– she forgotten

About the other leg?

In vain,

I searched for the twin,

The Gemini Jewel

– Namely, the other leg –

In holy closeness

to her lovely,

Flittering, flattering, fanning tutu.

Yes, if you can believe it,

Beautiful friends,

She has lost it . . .

 Hu! Hu! Hu! Hu! Huh!

It has gone,

always seeking

the other leg!

Oh, what a shame, about the other lovely leg

Where has it gone to mourn

this other lovely leg?

In great fright from

The grim blond curly

Locks of a monstrous lion? Or perhaps

Already chewed up, devoured –

Awful! Woe! Woe! Devoured! Sela.

Oh, do not cry,

Gentle heart!

Do not cry to me, your

Date-heart! Milky bosoms!

Your sweet heart –

Like booty!

Be like a man, Suleika! Courage! Courage!

Do not cry any more,

pale Dudu!

– Or, perhaps there is

something stronger, strong as a heart,

here on the square?

A soft speech?

A celebrating speech? . . .

Ha!

Rise up!

Blow, blow again!

Bellows of virtue!

Ha!

Roar alone, roar with morality,

As a moral lion roaring,

Before the daughters of the 

                   desert!

– Your virtuous lament,

dearest girls,

Is like all

European zeal, European hot-hunger!

And there I stand,

already a European,

I cannot do otherwise, God help me!

Amen!

The desert grows, woe to whom the desert shelters!

He crunches stone upon stone, the desert chokes and

                             twists,

Glowing brown, he looks at monstrous death

With rumination – his life is his chewing . . .

Do not forget – Man, who quenched his lust:

You – – are stone, desert, and death . . .

---------

After a nightly thunderstorm

Today, sad Goddess, you are encased,

In shrouds around my window.

Dreadfully, abundant pale flakes swirl,

Dreadfully, haunt the sounds of the deep brook.

I see! With each stroke of lightning,

With the roar untamed thunder,

With the damp of the valley, you, sorceress,

Have brewed a poisonous deadly drink!

Shuddering around midnight, I hear

Your lustful – and lamenting voice,

I see your eyes blink, see your

Sharp thunderous flash.

You tread upon my deserted bed

Fully armored, glistening with force,

Knocking at my window with a brazen chain,

You speak to me: ‘Now listen to what I am!

I am the great eternal Amazon

Never feminine, soft or gentle

A fighter with a man’s hate and scorn,

I am conqueror and tiger combined!

Where I tread, I trample rings of corpses,

My grim eyes hurl torches,

My brain thinks poison – Now kneel! Pray!

Murderous worm! Madness, fade away! ’

The wanderer

A wanderer walks through the night

With steady steps;

He carries with him crooked valleys and

Long scornful mockery.

The night is beautiful –

He marches on and on and does not stop,

Not knowing where his way will take him.

A bird is singing through the night

‘Oh bird what have you done!

Do you hinder my senses and feet

And shower me with sweet refrains

To my ear, that I must

Stand and listen - -

You tempt me with tone and greeting?’ –

The good bird becomes silent and speaks

‘No wanderer, no! I do not tempt you

With my song –

I tempt a little woman with scorn –

Why does it concern you?

Only to me is the night not beautiful –

How does it concern you? If you must go,

And never, never stand still!

Why are you still standing?

What did my flute playing do to you,

You, the wanderer?

The good bird is quiet and ponders:

‘What did my flute melody do to him?

Why does he stand still?

The, poor, poor wanderer!’